The Way to Bridging Empires
by ButterSnickety BaybeBum
Summary: The chamber of secrets has been opened and Hermione Granger and Harry Potter are both caught in the crossfire. Hermione stumbles upon the come and go room and, led by a mysterious ghost, is thrown back to the time of the Hogwarts founders.
1. The Prophecy, the Legend and the Sorting

Hello and thank you so much for deeming this story worth a look-see. As you can see, it is the first story I have published on fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. To be honest, your views and favorites, alone, make me happy, but reviews would make me even more happy. If you have any question about any of the little details, some will not be explained out right, then please just ask. Anyways, please review. Feedback keeps me writing. I will probably have the next chapter up within the next week, but I make no promises.

Also, you probably already know, but the Harry Potter universe, as in love with the world as I am, does not belong to me. That credit goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Note about the text:

_example=_ spells/magical objects/ creatures from cannon

_'example'=_private thoughts

"example"=spoken words/thoughts spoken aloud

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Note about the chapter: This chapter is, in actuality, more like a prologue. This story will be taking place in year two, but there was necessary information that happens here. It was the only way I could think of to clue you in with out boring you to tears, while at the same time bringing in some key players. As for 'The way to Bridging Empires' It's going to be a series and will include years two through six. Every story is completely mapped out and all there is left to do is get to writing. I will tell you now, there will be a lot of deviations from cannon and it will be epic. Also, you should know that, after year two, 'Harry' and 'Hermione' will be the two main characters. However, they will have nothing more than a platonic relationship. As for the romantic relationships in this series, there will eventually be a few, but they will take a lesser role. I will warn you now, you may, but will most likely not see them coming, and that's the way it will stay for most of this plot, if I do it right. If you like epic-adventure stories with a bit of mystery and a touch of romance, these stories are for you.

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The wind whipped across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, scattering leaves and whistling through trees of a dark and Forbidden Forest. If you observed closely, you would notice more life than usual on the grounds of Hogwarts. Just outside the forest line, you could spot the raucous dancing and fiery babble of the _Jarveys_. Within the borders of the forest, just near the line, you might spot a flash of white accompanied by the pounding of hoofs. These would be the _unicorns_. The black Lake could be spotted with a great whirl pool in the center with giant tentacles jutting out, waving about in a merry dance. The _giant squid_ was clearly in a good mood. Near the bank of the lake you might also spot a few _mermaids_ hiding in wait, for what was unknown. The _whomping willow_, though was the biggest shock. In spite of its name, it stood swaying gently in the singing breeze, and upon her branches rested a bright golden _phoenix_ accompanied by a snowy owl. This was curious, but the only one to notice all these odd occurrences was the gamekeeper and keeper of the keys and grounds, Rubeus Hagrid. Of course the inhabitants of Hogwarts castle didn't notice the change, the expectant buzz, in the air or the strange nervous excitement among the sentient life forms living outside the castle. They were, themselves, far too excited, while others resigned, to pay attention to such small things as the weather or magical creatures on this merry occasion.

It was a new year at Hogwarts, and all recognized this year's significance. Hogwarts would not be welcoming just any students this year. This year, tonight in fact, she would be welcoming Harrison James Potter for the first time. Harry Potter, as he more commonly known, the boy-who-lived to be the vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort, would be sorted into one of four Hogwarts houses tonight at the welcoming feast. Tonight's sorting would be marked down in history. So naturally, the staff, already on pins and needles, passed the time by making bets as to which students would be snatched by each house.

There was, however, one notable exception. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, grand sorcerer and chief warlock of the Wizengamot, and bearer of one order of Merlin, first class for his defeat of the dark lord Grindelwald, was excited, but he was also troubled. Neither were particularly unusual for the headmaster, in fact they were quite common, which was why he could often be spied pacing his office, as he was doing at the moment.

However, his reasons for being both troubled and excited often deviated from serious matters to rest within the realm of the decidedly odd. Often times he was excited over so small and insignificant a matter as a new shipment of lemon drops from his favorite muggle sweets shop. Although how said sweets were able to be shipped directly to a nearly unplottable and warded location, with out any one the wiser, was a small mystery to many. Perhaps, it should simply be attributed to how powerful a wizard Albus Dumbledore was. And being such a powerful wizard, he was awarded quite a variety of daily conundrums, many of which were settled quickly with out a worry. But, sometimes a mystery would come along that perplexed even him. As he was a great and powerful wizard, and being few and far between, it was these puzzles that often had him venting his frustrations at the complexity of a problem while battling his excitement over having, for once, something worth pondering over.

For this reason, he could be found pacing in his office instead of celebrating with his staff. Yes, he was just as excited about Harry's return to the wizarding world as the rest of them. He knew that boy was destined for great things. He didn't need Ollivander's news of Harry coming to possess the brother wand to Voldemort's to see that. Yes, he was troubled due to the threat to a powerful object, the _sorcerer's stone_, which could grant immeasurable riches and immortal life. And again, yes, he was worried about the presence of a dark being within the castle who he suspected was both possessing one of his teachers and after the _sorcerer's stone_. Yes, he knew about that; not much got past Albus Dumbledore. Yet, it was something else entirely that currently occupied his mind. There was a new mystery that had recently presented itself to Albus. Tonight marked an event that had not happened in over six-hundred years.

Not many people knew that Hogwarts castle was once a sentient being. Of those who knew, most assumed the castle's sentience was tied to the wards and had simply faded over time, as most spells and wards often did. This was only partially correct, and it was only the current headmaster of Hogwarts that knew better. He, along with his predecessors, knew both the facts and legend associated with Hogwarts castle, as they were passed down from one headmaster to the next after each were sworn to secrecy.

It was their job to know. Hogwarts castle was and is sentient. Not one of the inhabitants, aside from Albus would assume as such, since she hadn't shown her true power since the time of the founders, but he knew she was only sleeping. Emphasis should be put on was sleeping, since tonight, of all nights, she had chosen to wake up. All the portraits could feel it as well; her walls were positively humming with energy. The past headmasters' portraits, that lined the headmaster's office and knew of the significance of such an event, weren't any help, as they were equally as stumped as him.

This was truly a mystery. Hogwarts's sentience wasn't tied to just any wards, but to blood wards, it took the presence of an individual with blood of the founders to awaken Hogwarts. Even then, the individual would need to be 'deemed true' before Hogwarts could be awakened. So what did this mean? He knew the legend, of course he did. It was passed down to each headmaster as a message from the founders, and quite a foreboding one at that:

"A time will come for unity as darkness shall descend.

When that time comes, two of our number shall give you aid, for we have deemed them true.

They shall wield Hogwarts as a sword and shield against all those who are unworthy.

They shall both rise from darkness to rule.

Aside from this, we shall not disclose their identities, as their secrets are their own.

But, know this. When the time comes to reveal their lot, blood shall run and all those of disloyalty shall lie in ruin."

Their message was clearly a warning, one that troubled him greatly. Hogwarts carried within her walls the magic and essence of each of the four founders, as they ensured upon their deaths it would be so. It was their magic that kept Hogwarts the safe haven that it was. Their magic was intrinsically linked to the wards, making them near impossible to break, but now that she had awakened, their power could be used. In the wrong hands, possession of their power could mean devastation. The founders did say these two individuals had been deemed true, but what did that even mean? Would they be true to Hogwarts? Could the founders possibly be wrong? After all, Salazar Slytherin did create the chamber of secrets. That had been truly a disaster. He only wished he could know who they were.

At that thought, he stopped his pacing. It was almost laughable that he didn't think of this sooner. If any one were to know anything about them or the message, aside from him self, it would be her. Yes, this would work, it had to. She was close enough to the founders to know the truth as well. It was his only option, and if it didn't work, at least he could say he had tried.

Before he even realized he had moved, he was out of his office and across the grounds. He knew just where to find her, and it didn't take him long at all. One of the perks of being headmaster was the abundance of secret passages within the castle that only he could gain admittance to. Coming out of a passage behind the seventh floor tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching a stage of trolls to dance the ballet, admittedly one of his personal favorites, he spied her near a large window, peacefully gazing out at the grounds. The light of the moon filtered through her ghostly form, making her even more pale and luminescent than usual. Looking at her, his thoughts were temporarily distracted as he realized the moon being out meant the welcoming feast was drawing near. The first years and returning students would be arriving via the Hogwarts express soon. As he walked to stand beside her, he noted that perhaps he wasn't the only one here to have noticed this. She had chosen a window facing the Black Lake, which would afford a wonderful view of the first years as they made their trek, by boat, across the dark waters. Albus Dumbledore generally did not believe in coincidences, but he couldn't help but wonder why a ghost, who usually avoided getting involved with or even noticing the lives of humans, would suddenly show interest in this year's students to be sorted. That was a thing to ponder. He would have to keep it in mind for later.

"Hello headmaster. I had a feeling you would come to visit me this evening. I assume, by your presence, the castle has made her awakening known to you?"

"Indeed, I have felt her awaken, and please do call me Albus."

"As you wish, Albus, but only if you call me Helena."

Hiding his surprise at being offered any level of familiarity by a ghost, especially one as old as herself, he continued.

"If I may be so forward to ask, I was hoping that you may be able to answer a few questions for me. This is after all a rare occurrence."

"Hmm. Quite. Well, you shall ask and I," she paused as if to consider her response, "_may_ endeavor to answer."

He carefully hid his amusement, knowing he should have expected such an answer. She was a Ravenclaw after all, and of all things, she had been known for her haughtiness and pride. Getting answers from her would not be easy, but Albus Dumbledore did love a challenge.

"Is the awakening of Hogwarts in any way related to the message from the founders?"

"'In any way' you ask? Then the answer to your question is yes, but I believe you knew that already."

"I was inclined to believe so, yes, but confirmation is always helpful. Can you tell me who the two are?"

"I can." He couldn't keep himself from leaning toward her with a hopeful gleam in his eye. "But I shall not. To divulge their identities so soon would be a grave disservice to all parties involved. After all, their secrets are their own, but at the moment, not, as well"

Letting out a small sigh of frustration, he recognized a hope dashed, but pressed on and asked one more question. "Can they be trusted?"

"A good question, you ask, but each person would tell you differently." She turned to contemplate him then. Perhaps she was merely deciding on what to say, but there was something in her eyes that unnerved him. He knew to pay attention to what she was about to divulge. For it wasn't often that a ghost showed their true feelings. It was even rarer for them to speak of them. Often they were aloof around humans, sometimes to the extent of mistrusting them. But here, in this moment, the eyes of Helena Ravenclaw held a story to be told and more emotion than he could comprehend, although he did try. With a single gaze, her eyes told a story of painful regrets, guilt, betrayal, and self-righteous anger, but also trust, devotion and hope. The emotions seemed so fresh and strong, he wouldn't be surprised if this story was the reason she was bound to this realm as a ghost. Before he could contemplate this further, she spoke.

"The founders trusted them, as did I. They were very dear to all of us, and very powerful. We were, the three of us, very close, always getting into some sort of mischief. Those were some of my fondest memories. Thinking back, it's funny really, as I could have died, and nearly did because of one, and my death can be laid at the other's feet. But, I no longer blame them, as I have had hundreds of years to think it over, and they did always mean well."

She turned away from his shocked face to look out the window. Albus was speechless, and that didn't happen often. He had assumed she would blame the Bloody Baron for her death, as he was the one who had murdered her, but clearly there was more to the story than what he knew. How exactly was he supposed to trust these two? Albus Dumbledore was known for giving second chances, but to have this much faith in two individuals that may or may not have caused the death of another, was a tall order. He couldn't help but sigh. He would just have to cross that bridge when he got there. Until then-

"Oh! Here come the first years." He, again, noted her unusual interest in the life of humans, before his eye was drawn to the group of first years, lead by the groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid, that were just now making their way across the Black Lake. He had just smiled fondly, before his attention was brought, quite suddenly, to the sound of shattering glass just down the corridor, to the right of where they stood.

Sybil Trelawney stood, stock still as a statue, with wide surprised eyes, just in front of a large golden door that faced the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls. Albus was, for a moment, perplexed at the lack of broken glass, before quickly surmising the answer. _'A _disilusionment _charm, then?_' Sure enough, upon the floor, was the faint and transparent outline of a few whole bottles surrounded by what appeared to be a wide smattering of broken glass. _'Quite a few _disillusioned _bottles then? This is curious.'_ He knew his divination professor had a penchant for occasionally drinking herself into a stupor, but where was she taking these bottles, and why so many at a time. His thoughtful gaze wandered to the door that he knew led to the room of requirement before returning to her face, amusement shining from his twinkling bright blue eyes. His amusement was dashed, however, when he realized she was not simply surprised at being caught in such a shifty predicament. With dawning comprehension, he quickly noted the rigid posture, wide unseeing eyes, and rapid wheezing breathing. These were all things he had seen once before from Sybil Trelawney. He knew what was coming, and as she took a last wheezy breath, he resigned himself to be the bearer of another secret prophecy. He just hoped it wasn't as foreboding as the last, yet a part of him knew he was to be disappointed.

From a multitude of voices, high, low, hoarse and deep, Sybil Trelawney began to prophesy:

"Born from secrets and of lies,

And left to rise in darkness,

The heirs have come at last.

They shall live in light and shadow,

To bridge time and empires,

But not till their awakening,

Shall true power unfold.

Their ruin marks their rise.

Guardian and warrior by their own rite,

Snakes and lions shall unite.

And hidden in the enemies stronghold,

Betrayal brings about victory."

He had only just muttered a quick "Well, that was surely troubling" before Helena murmured " So, she isn't just a fraud. You know I have always wondered why you kept her around." They shared an amused glance before Sybil came out of her trance with a disquieting cough. Clearly confused, she looked around the corridor, then down at her feet. She was about to clear the mess, when she noticed Albus standing just a few feet in front of her. Upon realizing her predicament, she blushed to the roots of her thick mane of curls. Well, she appeared to do so; it was difficult to tell beneath her thick glasses, many layers of colored scarves and wild hair. After a minute of stunned silence, and upon realizing she was too surprised to speak, Albus took over, to her obvious relief.

"Ah, good evening Sybil. I expect you were on your way to the welcoming feast." Here he paused, as they both knew the feast was most probably not on her mind at all. "I shall meet you down there in a short while; I just have some last minute business to settle here. Do pass on the message to Minerva? I would be most grateful."

As dim as professor Trelawney seemed to her colleagues and students, she knew a dismissal when she heard one. However, as soon as she took her first step, she was met with the sharp crunching of glass.

"Ah, dear me, you seem to have stumbled upon a patch of broken glass. Peeves must be getting an early start this year. Allow me." And with a silent and wandless _evanesco_, she was free to go. After watching her leave, Albus turned to the ghost of Helena with a pensive expression.

"I'm sorry, but I need your word, Helena, as a ghost of Hogwarts, that what was said here tonight shall not be repeated."

It was several minutes, that she spent silently evaluating him, before coming to a decision and finally speaking. "I see, Albus, that you understand the usefulness of secrets, as do I. Also, as I'm sure you have plenty of your own, I hope you can, in time, understand the necessity of the the secrets that have been withheld from you tonight. For this reason only, I shall do as you ask."

She silently floated over to the interior corridor wall and pressed her wand hand, palm down, against the cool stone." I, Helena Rowan Ravenclaw, swear by the Hogwarts four, that not a word of what was spoken here tonight shall be repeated by me to any person, aside from Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

With her last spoken word, four strands of colored light – blue, green, red, and yellow – surged from the wall beneath her palm and wrapped themselves like a band around her wrist, before fading from sight.

"I thank you Helena."

While thinking to herself _'you aren't the only one who can play the game of secrets Albus,' _she let a delicate smirk slip upon her gray lips and nodded once. Albus didn't know if it was more coy or taunting, but it surely wasn't friendly. _'Am I missing something?'_ Of coarse he was; Helena was a Ravenclaw for a reason. She hadn't had this much fun playing with a human, especially one as great as Albus Dumbledore, since Tom Riddle. _'Hmm, I do hope this doesn't come back to bite me.'_

"The sorting shall be starting soon. It has been years since I have attended a sorting, but I do suspect the headmaster is expected to attend. After all, it isn't every day that Harrison Potter is sorted."

Then, fading from sight, she left him to be baffled by how truly knowledgeable she seemed to be of the year's events. He wondered if she would also play a role. That was highly unlikely, but not impossible. Well, he had a sorting to get to. He did an about face and hurried along to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and the now blank wall across from it. Pausing, he thought for a moment, before pacing the wall three times while thinking ' I need an entrance into the great hall.' When a door appeared upon the blank-faced wall, he stepped through and into an empty stone walled room with a single door opposite the one he had just entered from. This one too he stepped through and, upon realizing he had just been transported to the antechamber connected to the great hall, smiled in satisfaction. 'Good old Hogwarts.' He patted a wall fondly. 'To the start of another new year and another batch of first years,' he thought to himself, before calmly stepping into a full great hall and taking his seat. 'Right on time too.'

Noticing Minerva by the great hall doors, waiting for his signal to begin the sorting, he quickly nodded his head and watched as she departed to retrieve the new students. He looked around the hall and at the four house tables, before his mind wandered. Soon he was reflecting back on the new prophecy and the legend. He wondered about the heirs. Would they be students, or would they be coming by time travel like the prophecy seemed to suggest. If they were to be students, what house would they be in? Were the heirs even the two mentioned in the legend? Or were they separate entirely? Whose side would they be on?

He withheld a sigh of frustration. Albus Dumbledore was not a man accustomed to being left in the dark. 'I'm sure the answers will come in time. I'll just have to be patient, and keep my eyes open, every last one of them. It shouldn't be too hard.' Living in Hogwarts, there was a reason they said "the walls have eyes." They did have eyes, and ears, and as headmaster, they all reported back to him.

He was allowed only that last thought before his attention was grabbed by the re-entry of his deputy-headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Behind her trailed a line of small nervous first years, waiting to be sorted. He chuckled to himself as he remembered this year's rumored sorting story. He did believe it was the Weasley boys responsible. Well, the _sorting hat_ was harmless, especially compared to wrestling and taming a troll, but the first years didn't know that.

His attention was drawn back to the first years as he realized he had accidentally tuned out most of the sorting hat's song. He would have to remedy that. He had been looking forward to a song this evening and he would see to it that he got to enjoy one. But, back to the sorting, he hadn't even caught a glimpse of Harry yet. _'Where is that boy? Hagrid tells me he looks just like his father'_

He found him standing beside a tall gangly redhead, Ronald Weasley, if he wasn't mistaken. Harry looked remarkably short standing beside the boy, but Hagrid was right, he did look just like his father. They shared the same black messy hair, glasses and face structure, but if Hagrid was right, he had retained his mother's eyes. Looking closer he noticed Harry shooting amused glances at the young Mr. Weasley beside him, who was then shooting not-so-subtle dirty looks at a girl standing near the front of the group. He frowned at that. _'It's a bit early for that amount of animosity. What could have happened here?'_ Looking closely at the young lady, he couldn't help but shake himself. _'Another mystery! I should have known.'_

Dumbledore was an enigma to many people. He had several eccentricities, one of many being that he was not easily fooled by spells and objects designed to hide or alter ones appearance. Not many knew of the reason for this particular quirk of his. That he had charmed his eye-glasses to work in tandem with his legilimency was a secret he would take to his grave. This being the reason he noticed and was not fooled by this young girls _glamour charm_, he found himself a bit wary of the first year before him.

'Why would a first year require a _glamour_, and a particularly strong one at that? It couldn't be for beauty purposes as she wasn't a face that would catch a passing eye, unless it was to notice her wildly curling hair and slightly large front teeth. But he couldn't know for sure. Usually he would be able to see the _glamour_ wielders true appearance, but, in cases where a stronger charm was used, he was left to see only the subtle telling shimmer of the _glamour_ charm. Generally, these were only used to conceal a person's full identity. This was troubling. _'Did the girl realize she held a glamour? Was it deliberate on her part?'_ Here was a mystery he had to solve, and not just to satisfy his curiosity. It was his job as headmaster to see to the school's safety. She could be a potential threat to his students.

He knew what needed to be done, but hesitated at hearing her name called. _'Hermione Granger? But, she's a muggle born. This is most unusual.'_ He didn't have time to reconsider the ethics of what he was about to do. She was already walking up to the _sorting hat_.

Of coarse he knew as soon as the sorting hat was upon her head he would be sensed and possibly thrown out of her mind. The sorting of each student was meant to be private, but he had good motive. So, keeping his intentions at the forefront of his mind, he waited till the exact moment she donned the cap before entering her mind and hoping for the best. He wasn't disappointed. He knew the cap was displeased at the intrusion, but also that it understood the necessity. So, after a short pause, the hat began as if he hadn't noticed the intruder.

Her ears and eyes were surrounded by a silent darkness, except for the low buzzing in her head. But that had to be from the feeling of her brain being squeezed too tight. And that had to be from the _sorting hat_, right? Hermione Granger wasn't sure. But she was sure of that she was supposed to be getting sorted, and not sitting here with a hall of people, that she didn't know, as they watched her like some sort of zoo animal, on display for their own amusement.

"Hello? Excuse me? Mr. Sorting Hat? Aren't I supposed to be getting sorted?" She blushed as she heard a resounding chuckle from the hall of witches and wizards around her that was echoed by a low rumbling in her head, most certainly from the _sorting hat_. She caught herself in her embarrassment and scowled. She did not like to be laughed at.

'Right you are Miss…_Granger_ is it? Hmm…I see. Well, where shall we put you then? With nearly equal parts Slytherin and Gryffindor, you epitomize what both houses prize most! You have a fair amount of pride and a healthy amount of ambition. Your sincerest wish is to find a place in this world of ours, I see. You are cunning and you have a quick wit, but both of these qualities are countered by your fiery temper and your tendency to be brash under pressure.'

She scoffed at that.

'You also place a healthy respect on the loyalty from and to others; especially for those you consider family. Hmm, you secretly believe rules were made to be broken, in regards to your goals, but only if you don't get caught. Well, that's a Slytherin quality –'

"That's ridiculous! I thought you knew everything." There were a few gasps and a few guffaws scattered amongst the great hall.

'Be careful miss; I'm the one who's sorting you. And you don't have to talk aloud for me to hear you. Moving on, you would do very well in Slytherin but-

"Sly–' she paused, blushing at her forgetfulness. Well at least her audience was getting a show while they waited. 'Slytherin? I can't be in Slytherin! I'm muggle born. Salazar Slytherin hated muggleborns. I read so in Hogwarts a – '

'Yes, yes, I know all about that and a fair bit more than you, as I was there and you were not. Remember this Miss Granger and you will go far: There is a lot to be learned from books, but books can only teach you so much, and sometimes books won't actually teach you at all. Moving on. Muggle born you say?'

There was the sound of more low rumbling, and this time she didn't presume to know why. "Bah! Salazar would be turning in his grave. Well then, if you're sure Slytherin won't do, you have a sound and ready mind as well. Ravenclaw would be a nice tight fit for you. Hmm, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor? Let's see you grow, shall we?' "Better be – "


	2. Waking Dreams and Nightmares

Hello and thank you so much for deeming this story worth a look-see. As you can see, it is the first story I have published on fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. To be honest, your views and favorites, alone, make me happy, but reviews would make me even more happy. If you have any question about any of the little details, some will not be explained out right, then please just ask. Anyways, please review. Feedback keeps me writing.

Also, you probably already know, but the Harry Potter universe, as in love with the world as I am, does not belong to me. That credit goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

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Note about the text:

_example=_ spells/magical objects/ creatures from cannon

'example'= quotes from written text

_'example'=_private thoughts

"example"=spoken words/thoughts spoken aloud

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Note to the reader: Notice the difference in dreams depicted in the first chapter and this one. I won't make it easy and tell you what the difference is.

You will have to do a little work to keep up with this story in the future, I guarantee it, but I will almost always give out tips. Well, I will if I'm in a giving mood. Good luck and enjoy.

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The night air was still and silent as the grave. Not a single animal stirred and the small residential street of Crawley, London was cast in shadow. An onlooker would point out that it was much too early to be this dark, and that the street was much too silent and oppressive, but most shocking of all, they would point out the two story red brick house at the cul-de-sac's end. There was nothing so special about this house that it stood apart from all its neighbors. However, one striking difference did set this house apart from all the rest. While each of the houses were darkened, with not a single light lit, this house's interior looked as if a box of fireworks had been set off inside. There were flashes of nearly every color: blue, yellow, red, white, purple and green. The entire show lasted, at most, a handful of minutes before dying down.

If, during those few minutes, said onlooker somehow managed to cross this homes threshold, they would have wished to step right back out again. The interior of the house lay in shambles and chaos ran amuck. A handful of unmoving bodies riddled the floor. Several more, still standing, battled and dashed back and forth, sending jets of light from wooden sticks careening towards their opponents. It would have been impossible for the street to be as quiet as it was, if not for the silencing spell that had clearly been cast here. Whoever started this indoor battle did not wish to be interrupted.

There were now four people left standing, each holding wands. Two were tall and well built, clearly adult wizards, but shrouded in dark cloaks and hooded, to hide their identity. The other two were each no older than sixteen, and back to back fighting for their life. One, a boy with messy jet-black hair and vibrant emerald green eyes seemed to be fighting a losing battle against a skilled opponent. He was outmatched but determined. He was able to deflect a _confringo_ before being clipped in the shoulder by a glowing red slashing hex. He countered with a _Locomotor Mortis_ and hit his target, knocking him to the ground. _Expelliarmas_ was on the tip of his tongue, but he was literally blinded before being silenced as well. The shock was apparent on his face as he realized he was done for. His enemy was relentless. A handful of seconds passed before he was hit with a knee-reversal hex followed by a variant of _incarcerous_. He was knocked to the ground and bound with heated glowing hot cords of metal before he even had a chance to brace himself, and would have cried out if he wasn't silenced.

His partner was now left to fight off the two attackers alone, and, running of instinct, immediately ducked and rolled to the ground. A slicing hex that had been aimed at her back sailed over her, clipping the shoulder of the taller man, and knocked his hood back to reveal a head of long blonde hair and an elaborate silver mask. He sneered at the other man. "Idiot," he hissed. I should leave you down there to suffer. He did consider it for a for a moment, but decided against it. Instead, he reversed the leg locker while the girl was distractedly weaving a protective enchantment around her fallen friend and moving him to a free corner. She was finished just as the hooded man stood to his feet.

She stood before them, tall and defiant, protecting her friend and encased in shadow. She had long dark curls that hummed with the energy of her unleashed magic, pale porcelain skin and raging gray eyes. She radiated fury as she crouched slightly in an offensive stance, prepared to duel. "You will regret ever setting foot in this house after I'm through with you, but more than anything you will pay for what you've done to my family. I'm going to make you wish you had never been born." She was ready to take these two down or die trying.

The two men stood side by side facing her. One let out a snort of amusement while the other, with the long blonde hair, kept a steady eye on her; he had a feeling this witch was capable of far more than she had displayed so far. The other, unwisely let his guard down to speak. It was then that she began her attack. Using the shadows to her advantage, she began to murmur under her breath to create a transparent, invisible to all but the creator, warded barrier between herself and her attackers, not that either of them noticed.

"Oh, let me taste her," the man said while stepping forward. "A quick bite won't hurt much and you'll get what you want in the end. Her scent is just so mouth watering." He took another step and, in the girls direction, made a low sound in his throat that somewhat resembled a growl. The trap had been set. Rapid excited breaths followed this and coincided with a chuckle from the other cloaked figure.

"As dearly as I would love to see this filth put in her place, we are here on business. Pleasure will come later."

Then he raised his wand, about to cast, but was distracted by the choking gasps of the cloaked figure, now desperately clawing at his chest.

"What is wrong–?"

He didn't get a chance to finish before a _bombarda_ cast straight at him. He had just managed to dodge before he found himself batting off a flock of birds followed by a succession of _stupefies_. Quickly, he canceled the attack with a _finite_ and silently cast a shield that would rebound quite a nasty curse to any unlucky enough to trigger it. She narrowed her eyes and stood tall, but stopped casting. His eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"I hope you know your friend is dying. Most likely he doesn't have longer than a minute?"

The man looked at his partner than around the room where two other dark cloaked figures lay unmoving. "Yes, quite an ingenious spell. I wonder where you learned it and how you came to master it. Somebody has been sneaking into the restricted section at Hogwarts. You've also managed to single handedly take down three adult wizards." He spared a glance for the unconscious boy behind her. "Well, Potter did manage one on his own, but I suppose that was luck. Tell me. When did you find the time to learn such advanced magic, and if I'm not mistaken, the dark arts as well?"

She didn't bother answering his question. "Why did you come here?"

He chuckled before answering. "I was solving a mystery that has been troubling the thoughts of quite a few purebloods. We've been wondering, as I'm sure you know, how a mudblood could possibly surpass a pureblood in power and intelligence, let alone all those in her year." He sent a nonverbal severing charm towards her wand hand, to test her defenses, but found it easily deflected. "Add to the mystery a mudblood inheriting a pureblood founder's gift, and you have a problem begging to be solved. Now, I had to do some digging, and didn't discover much, but what I did find was most suspicious. It was a brilliant cover up by the way, nearly Slytherin, but not enough to dissuade a Malfoy. I did find out that the late Mrs. Granger and I had been related through marriage. I was able to take care of that and more through a simple familial visit. You see, it was all too easy to pluck the answers I needed from her troubled and tormented mind, but it happens to the best of wizards under the throes of the _cruciatus_. I just need a few more questions answered."

"You say that as if I would answer any questions you asked."

"Well, I did assume it wouldn't be willing, but I thought you knew that." He flicked his wand and muttered a spell under his breath. A tongue of flame stretched from the tip of his wand and expanded into the shape of winged dragon. "I highly doubt any spell you know is capable of keeping a fiery fiend like this out. So, let us play, shall we? What is it going to take to get the information I need. Shall I go after the-boy-who-lived-to-die-a terrible-death first? Or will you answer me without a fuss?"

She looked ready to spit fire, but she nodded her head in ascent. "Good. Now, let's get star–" He paused and glanced towards the front of the house with a frown. "I see you've called in reinforcements. I'm afraid that won't save you Miss. Granger, as I can't exactly let you live." It happened too fast for any amount of intervention to stop it. There was only the pounding of feet as a warning before the man was being bulldozed up and over a toppled sofa by a blur of black. Whoever or whatever the attacker was, it couldn't stop the fiery spell from being released, aimed straight at the roof over the girls head, which then began to spread and grow rapidly. There was a growl, quickly followed by a whimper, then a hastily muttered "Draconis".

The girl looked around the room frantically as the dancing fiery fiends climbed down the walls and jumped from the ceiling. They were steadily creeping closer. She canceled the ward in the center of the room before flicking her wand at Harry. She watched him rise steadily into the air before guiding him towards the last clear hallway. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. She had moved only a step when a fiery serpent descended in coils from the ceiling, down the wall, and slithered directly into her path. "No!" The serpent looked at her and seemed to hesitate. Her eyes widened. "Move!" It had just started to listen when it was joined by a savage looking _chimaera. _Before she had even blinked, they had joined to form a dragon nearly three times the size of its original. It stood on all fours, simply gazing at her, before it took a step forward.

She took a step back and knocked into the hovering form of Harry behind her. She looked at him quickly with sad eyes before looking around the burning room. There was nowhere to go now. They were completely trapped. Walls consumed with flames surrounded them on all sides, a collapsed and burning stairwell lay in shambles behind them, and a fiery promise of death waited before them. She flicked her wand and Harry floated to the ground. She gathered him in her arms and whispered in his ear "I'm so sorry Harry" before looked the dragon in the eyes. "Come on! Do your worst." It reared on its hind legs and roared at her before arching forward and breathing a great tongue of fire. She watched it rush towards her, felt its heat explode around her, and knew this moment was her last.

* * *

In a shared room, one of many at the multistory Weasley home, more fondly called the burrow, and just outside Ottery St. Catchpole, Harry Potter woke up screaming. He was covered in perspiration, and still shaking from an incredibly vivid nightmare. He looked around him, to reassure himself that he wasn't still dreaming and that his dream was not in fact reality, before noticing his best mate, Ron Weasley, sitting up in his adjoining bed, staring at him wide-eyed. They were silent for a minute before Harry spoke.

"Nightmare"

"Right, well, it happens to the best of us. Mine are usually about jumping spiders and vampire teddy bears..." He blushed to the roots of his hair and gave an exaggerated shiver before sniffing the morning air and glancing out the window at the rapidly lightening sky.

"It smells like breakfast is ready. Figure we should head down?"

"Sure. Um, Ron, do you think your mum would let me borrow a pinch of floo powder to send Mione a message?"

"Oh, yeah, I always forget Mione is connected to the floo. I forget the reason why. How is it muggles managed to get their fireplace attached to the floo network?" A shrug was his response. "Oh, well, I'm sure mum wouldn't mind. Why do you want to write her though? We'll be seeing her on the express in a few hours."

"It's just the dream I had was about her. Well, I think it was; she did look different, older I guess. I was in it too, but I was knocked out quick in a duel. It was so real. I–"

"You lost a duel to Mione?" He smiled a little.

"It wasn't verses her. We were dueling together against men in black cloaks and silver masks. The wizard she was dueling, Lucius Malfoy I think, had her cornered as she was protecting me and used some spell that absolutely terrified her. He was about to interrogate her about something." He looked down at his hands then and didn't see Ron's horrified face. "But then he was attacked by something and his spell got loose and went on a rampage. The thing is, after the dream ended I could still feel the pain from it and, I think, the heat from the fire too."

"What fire?" The question was barely a whisper.

"That was the spell he used, some type of strange fire. The house was burning down, Ron, and the fire had us trapped inside. It feels as if it just happened instead of it being an actual dream. I feel as if should be screaming in pain from the hexes that hit me, but it wasn't real, right?" He looked up at Ron's face, looking for reassurance. That wasn't to be; Ron looked at a loss, as if he didn't know whether to be more bewildered, alarmed or disturbed. "I just wanted to check and see if she was okay is all."

Ron shook his head, to clear his confusion, before nodding. Then he stood and started pacing. It was very confusing for Harry, who hadn't seen his best friend this serious since their real-life wizarding chess match in their race to retrieve the Sorcerer's stone last year.

"Right mate, I don't know if you know this, but dreams like that carry a bit of weight in the wizarding world. Those men in your dream were death eaters, followers of You-Know-Who. Except, I don't know how you would know what they look like, but you would have to know that to dream about them, right? A class called _divination_ teaches all about this at Hogwarts. I only know what my brothers have told me, and that's not much. Maybe when we get back to Hogwarts we can go talk to the professor?" He looked up and caught Harry frantically shaking his head. "You're right. Charlie and Percy say she's a bit barmy anyways. Besides, Hermione would probably know more than her." He gave his friend a shaky smile to reassure him. "You should tell her about the dream Harry. Hermione's scary brilliant. She'd be able to figure out what's going on. Anyways, let's go write that letter; breakfast can wait." He headed to the door and was already down the stairs before he realized Harry wasn't following. When he popped his head back through the door, Harry's bemused expression had him a bit confused.

"Aren't you coming mate?"

"Yeah, I'll be right down. I just have to write that letter. I'll meet you down there."

"Right, you sure?"

"Yeah, and Ron?"

"Yeah mate," he said while looking down the stairs towards the kitchen and food.

"Save me some breakfast."

Ron looked up with a sheepish smile. "I'll try, but you know how we Weasley men are. It'd be best to be quick with that letter. I'll warn mum you'll be down in a bit." Then he was gone, racing down the stairs, to beat his brothers to breakfast.

Harry chuckled. _'Breakfast can wait'?_ Yeah, right. He almost forgot he was talking to Ronald Weasley. He stood up and headed towards his half-packed trunk. Digging around a bit, he found a sheaf of parchment, a quill and some ink. _'Now, to figure out what I should write. Should I be honest? How honest? Will she think I'm crazy? I can't believe I told Ron. Well, he did explain it was serious and Hermione would probably know more about _divination_, or whatever it's called, and she does know everything.'_ He looked down at the parchment before him and made up his mind.

"Hermione,

I know I'm going to see you today on the Hogwarts express, but I had to write and see if you were all right. I know this might sound a little crazy, but I've already told Ron and he seemed to think it was a serious matter, or at least it is to the wizarding world, something to do with divination. I have no idea what that means. Normally I wouldn't be worried, but this time was different, it was way too real this time. Alright, so I'm rambling now. I'll get to the point and just say it.

I had a lucid dream last night. You and I were both in it. We were both dueling men in black hooded cloaks and silver masks. Ron says they were death eaters, but I've never seen one before. That's part of what doesn't make sense. There's more though. I was knocked out of the duel fast to some painful hexes. I only say that, because when I woke up I could still feel the pain. What do they call that? Phantom pain?

Anyways, you were left to battle two men on your own. One of them, I think, was Lucius Malfoy. You'll remember him from Diagon Alley, Draco's father. He mentioned some things Mione, about your mum being related to him somehow and torturing her with something called the _cruciatus._ Finally, he used this spell, I don't know what it was, but it made a fiery animal come out of his wand. Then, he ended up being attacked and his spell was released and set the house we were in on fire. Hermione, I don't even want to say it, but I hope this was just a dream, because I think we were about to die.

I know that sounds dramatic, but I don't know what to make of this. Write me back saying you are alright, so Ron and I don't worry. He's the one that encouraged me to write you actually. He seemed to think you would know more about this divination thing too because, and I quote "she's scary brilliant." Of course he's probably right. You are brilliant.

See you soon,

Harry"

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake-up! Hermione! Wake! Up!" Isla Granger's calls got more frantic until each word was punctuated by a firm shake to the shoulder of an unconscious form that lay, caked in sweat atop a small twin bed. "Hermione! For goodness sake–"

She was interrupted by inaudible grumbles coming from beneath a mass of wild curly hair. She released her shoulder to brush a few curls back from her forehead. She couldn't be sure, but she thought they sounded vaguely like, "stupid bloody know-it-all hat, you don't have to shout for me to hear you."

Hermione had just rolled onto her side, to face Mrs. Granger with sleepy whiskey brown eyes, before being lunged at and squeezed in a, quite literally, suffocating hug. Mrs. Granger squeezed so tight she wouldn't have been able to breath even if her airway wasn't being blocked by the twin to her mass of curly hair. She barely managed to croak out "air" before her mother released her, wearing a bright smile. She blinked owlishly up at her mother before cracking a small smile in return.

"Well, good morning to you too."

"Oh, you! Don't be a smarty-pants. I get enough from your father," she said with a smile before furrowing her brow.

She observed her mother's pensive expression, while burrowing deeper into her comfortable bed. In the Granger household, it was called the thinking face, and both mother and daughter shared it. Well, Sebastian Granger, Hermione's father said so. She turned to her bedside table. Beside a black framed portrait of a young girl with blonde wavy hair and bottle-blue eyes, sat her alarm clock. _'What could be so troubling at six thirty in the morning?'_

"Mum, is something wrong?"

Mrs. Granger sighed before perching herself on the bed beside her daughter. "Not exactly; I just worry too much. You had another dream again this morning. I found you twisting about in your bed sheets, mumbling under your breath, and your eyes had gone white and unseeing again." She paused to look her over, as if new symptoms might magically appear at any moment. "Hermione these dreams have been coming more frequently. Last week you even had one in the middle of the day. I'm beginning to think I should floo call our aunt Meda –"

"No! Please mum. They're not that bad. There's no need to worry any one," she said when really she was thinking _'who am I fooling? I just don't want to lose Hogwarts.'_

She had been having these episodes for over a year now. At first, they started as a few rare lucid dreams. Then she began to have them more often, nearly once a week. Then she started sleep talking, but even that could be considered normal, if a bit unusual. It was when she started sleep talking in a strange language that her parents began to worry. The first time it had happened, back at Hogwarts in her first year, it had freaked her roommates out as well. That night she had woken Lavender and Parvati with the new development and it had taken a lot of negotiating to keep the two gossip mongers quiet. Ever since then she learned to keep a silencing charm cast on her bed curtains, but with magic not being allowed outside of Hogwarts, she couldn't keep it from her parents for long. Of course, their worry reached a new level when just last week, at the dinner table and while talking about last year's defense against the dark arts teacher, she went into a trance and began speaking in the strange foreign language. To make matters worse, her pupils had faded into the whites of her eyes and she had stared unwaveringly at her mother. In retrospect, it was perfectly justified that her mother had fainted.

"Mum, I know you're worried. To be honest I am too, but I'm more scared that, if anyone finds out, I'll be deemed crazy and won't be able to return to Hogwarts. I'd do any thing to avoid that."

"I understand dear, but I'm sure they wouldn't think you were crazy." She held a finger up to her protesting daughter. "Just promise me that you will consider talking to someone. What about that nurse Pompey that patched your friend Harry up last year? Don't they have doctor patient confidentiality agreements at Hogwarts?"

That made Hermione giggle. "I don't think so, and I doubt anything is kept secret from Headmaster Dumbledore. It's madam Pomfrey by the way." She paused to think, for a moment, before continuing. "Give me a year to research this. If, by the end of the year, I still don't know what's going on, or find out it is dangerous, then I will go to Poppy or even," she lowered her voice a bit from trepidation, "my head of house."

Her mother thought about it and evaluated her daughter to see if she was bluffing. "You would be perfectly honest about any answers you found?"

"For you I would."

Her mother hugged her then, nice and tight, while whispering in her ear, " my little Gryffindor."

That just reminded her of the dream she had. That she had almost not been put into Gryffindor was something her mother didn't need to know. Then, she realized that she had another topic to research this year, blood wards and prophecies. She didn't know if these dreams were real or not, but if they were, she wasn't about to let a mystery like this pass her by.

"So, I did initially come up here for a reason," she said, while letting go of Hermione.

"And that reason was?"

"Well, there were two actually."

"Oh?"

"Your father is downstairs making breakfast to celebrate your return to Hogwarts today."

Hermione was out of bed and across her room in the blink of an eye. "Today is the first day. Oh! How could I forget, I'm not even done packing." She looked at her wall of bookcases then down at her trunk full of Lockhart books, remembering the reason she hadn't finished packing. She had been trying to find a way to fit more books inside her trunk, but there wasn't room for a single extra book from her collection. She would know she had packed and repacked half a dozen times.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. What's dad making," she asked with a smile.

"Blueberry-Banana pancakes, actually."

_'Of course, Blueberry-Banana pancakes, just like last year, and the year before that and the year before that and…'_ Her smile became a bit forced and, of course, her mother noticed it; she notices everything.

"They are still your favorite, right?"

"Always," she said with a quick glance at her bedside portrait and walked over to a bookcase to skim through one of her favorite copy of Hogwarts, A History.

"Well your father and I were thinking that after breakfast, since it is September first, we could visit…"

A heading had caught Hermione's eye and she found herself focusing all her attention on the words in front of her.

'**Secret Passages and Hidden Rooms of Hogwarts: Fact or Fiction'**

Beneath that was the subheading:

'**The Come and Go Room'**

Hermione was a very curious girl and an avid reader. Before finding this rare copy, she had read Hogwarts, A History enough times to have it nearly memorized by heart. This last summer, however, she had been perusing _Flourish and Blotts_ collection when she had literally stumbled upon an ancient looking dusty copy of her favorite book. She was surprised to find its printing year read 1237, less than three centuries since the founding of Hogwarts. She knew, with the extended lifespan of wizards and witches, it was even possible the founders had been alive at the time. _'Why would such a rare edition be in _Flourish and Blotts_,'_ she had wondered.

Later, when asking the cashier how much the copy was worth, he had replied, "A standard, self-updating, copy of Hogwarts: A History, such as this one, sells for five galleons." She had been shocked and wondered how he couldn't see that it wasn't simply a 'standard copy' as he said. She also knew that such a copy should have been worth several hundred galleons. She had been at a loss as to what to do. Clearly, this copy had secrets that not just anyone could reveal, but she was such a person.

She knew it would be terribly wrong to buy the book at a measly five galleons, but standing in the bookstore, looking over the rare tome, she felt a strange stirring in her. It was something she had never felt before. She needed to have this copy as her own more than anything. She would do anything to make it hers. She didn't care if it was wrong. Of course, having only just completed her first year, she didn't even consider that her sudden ruthless compulsion could be credited to something other than 'Slytherin tendencies', as she had assumed. She had looked the cashier in the eye and without batting an eye said, "I'll take it."

She now found herself reassessing that day, wondering about such a strong compulsion to buy a book, and said book's strange enchantment. She now knew there was more to it than a simple illusion charm. She knew this because looking at this page and its heading and its subheading, she realized that she had never before read about the 'Come and Go Room' in any copy of Hogwarts: A History, not even this one. She was thoroughly entranced as she continued reading.

'The Come and Go Room is a legend of Hogwarts, as its location is a mystery. Rumored to have been designed by the founders for a specific purpose, but later hidden due to an unnamed danger, this room is said to posses a sentience that attunes itself to each users mind. It is claimed that any who stumble upon this room shall find themselves transported to wherever they desire.'

"Hermione"

_'That's interesting.'_ She idly wondered if the room could even transport someone outside the wards of Hogwarts…

"Hermione"

If someone could be transported out, could another, from outside the wards, also be let in? Was that the hidden danger? She had just glanced down to read the next sub-heading:

'**The Chamber of Secrets'**

She was able to skim its contents; this she had read before. She knew that Salazar Slytherin had created it and that it was rumored to be home to a terrible beast, her last copy had said so, as did this one. However, certain words now caught her attention. _'The chamber was commissioned by the founders at the bequest of Salazar? The beast was a protector? What in the world?'_ She had read this passage, in this same book and others before, but not once had she read this. She was about to thoroughly dissect this passage, but was distracted as she noticed her mother trying to get her attention.

"Oh, sorry mum. What were you saying?" She managed to sound mildly interested and even smiled to mask her annoyance.

Her mother's returned a smile that was a tad too sugary-sweet before glancing at the bedside portrait and down to the lettering engraved in its frame: 'Shannon Winona Granger'. Warning bells were going off in Hermione's mind, and with a sudden realization, a lump lodged in her throat. She knew what her mother was about to say. It was the reason she managed to forget this day's significance each year. That Hermione Granger forgot such a thing, in itself, was highly irregular, as she never forgot anything. Nobody outside her family knew that September first marked one of her least favorite days of the year, anyone else would assume the opposite and be perfectly justified in their reasoning.

She turned back to her bookcase and gently set the delicate tome down, telling herself she would just carry it on to the train. She didn't have to wait long before her mother confirmed her suspicions.

"Your father and I were thinking that, after breakfast, we would go visit Shannon." She took a deep calming breath, which was echoed by Hermione's across the room, before continuing. "We were wondering if you would come this year," she said in a hesitant tone that implied she was afraid of the answer, probably because she knew it would be a no.

Hermione looked at her, over her shoulder, with a slightly forced smile. "Not today. I really do have to finish packing." She looked from her nearly full trunk, knowing her excuse was feeble at best, to her alarm clock. "It's seven now and we have to leave for Kings Cross station at quarter to ten and–

"Hermione stop. It is okay; your father and I don't intend to force you, but don't think I don't know what you're doing–

Hermione whipped around with blazing eyes. She had been pulled tight with added stress from her strange dreams, coerced into eventually coming clean to an authority figure, and then interrupted while trying to solve a mystery. This, however, was too much, so she snapped. "What! What is it that I am doing that is so wrong? Please tell me, since clearly you have yourself so put together."

Her mother narrowed her eyes, repeating to herself _'She's a teenager. This is a phase. She's a teenager'_ to keep her own temper in check, which ran in the family. She didn't want to provoke her daughter, especially over so serious a matter, but she knew that her daughter needed to be set straight or she would never move forward. She had been left stewing for too long. So, taking a deep breath, she answered her question, being careful to keep a civil tone.

"I think you and I both know the answer to that question, and it's time you stop denying it. You are dodging Hermione. You've been doing it for two years now. Please hear me out on this," she said to stall the coming interruption. "Your father and I have left you alone on this because we understand that you feel guilty about what happened, but you are letting it hold you down. You read all the time nowadays. You are always composed and I hear a stickler for rules now too. You don't ever talk about her either. Do any of your friends know about Shannon?"

She wanted to protest and say that yes, yes they did know, that she had told them, but she would be lying. The truth was that it was much too painful to even think about her, let alone talk about her. Her mother saw the big fat no in her eyes too. She gave a resigned sigh as her mother took another deep breath. "I thought as much. Your father and I understand that you are still grieving, but Hermione, I think it's time you let her go. You don't need to forget, your father and I never will, but let her go. Let the guilt go; it's keeping you from living."

Hermione sagged more with each word that was spoken until she was leaning against her bookcase to keep standing. The flame had gone out of her eyes and she breathed a tired sigh. They didn't blame her for the accident. She felt some relief from that at least. She had blamed herself for so long and had never once stopped to think that they may not as well. _'They should,'_ she thought to herself. Of course, they didn't know what had really happened and she wasn't ever going to be the one to tell them. They didn't need to know, not as she did. Yes, she blamed herself, and yes, the guilt weighed her down. She felt horrible for that day; it was one of the worst of her life. Now she was being asked to let it go, and she didn't know whether she should. She had been living this way for nearly two years; changing now would be difficult.

She looked up at her mother, sitting nervously on her unmade bed, and realized she wanted to, not for herself, but for her parents. If it was what they really wanted, then she would try. She owed it to them. She had already lost them Shannon; she wouldn't deny them this. Slowly, she walked forward, to stand beside her mother, and picked up her bedside portrait. She looked at the girl with the wide toothy smile, sparkling blue eyes, and wavy blonde hair. Her mother always said Shannon was like a replica of her father. Hermione, on the other hand was like a clone copy of her mother, except for her smile, that she got from her father. They all agreed on one thing; Hermione and Shannon had been like two sides of the same coin, best friends and inseparable, they complimented each other perfectly.

She brushed her fingers across the small silver lettering, along the bottom edge of the frame, and couldn't help but think of another object that carried Shannon's full name. Except this was an epitaph and read:

'**In remembrance of:**

**Shannon Winona Granger**

**Loving daughter and sister,**

**you will be missed dear heart.**

**September 1, 1981-October 31, 1990'**

Just that thought made her hesitate. She took a shaky breath and swiped at a stray tear. She knew she was psyching herself out and that she needed to stop, but she couldn't help it. She would still try, but not just yet. _'baby steps were started for a reason,'_ she told herself. She looked up and gave her mother a shaky tentative smile.

"Your right mum, really, you are, but today is just too soon. It still hurts too much even to think about her." She looked back down to the portrait and brushed her fingers across the name. "I just really miss her."

She thought about her father downstairs, making breakfast. "You know, I still remember the first time we made blueberry-banana pancakes." She set the picture back down and climbed onto the bed to sit beside her mother, who smile and folded her into her arms. It's still one of my favorite memories."

"I remember you and your sister were arguing about which type of pancake was better, blueberry or banana. You were so happy because you won rock-paper-scissors and got to add the bananas–

"Except, Shannon thought it would be funny to sneak behind me and add a whole box of blueberries to the batter. I thought they were ruined, but you made them anyways."

"You didn't want to eat them because you thought all the dark spots made them ugly, but then–

"Shannon ate nearly half the batch to herself because she thought they were so good. So, I tried one too–

"And they've been your favorite ever since."

"Exactly."

Her mother sighed and tightened her hold a little before speaking.

"You know I always thought there was a lesson to be learned that day, but you were too young to understand it at the time." She stroked the curls away from her daughter's face and looked down into a pair of warm brown eyes, identical to her own that she had inherited from her mother, even the amber flecks around the iris were the same. Just looking at them gave her a bit of strength and warmed her heart. She knew she was doing the right thing by her daughter; she imagined her own mother would have done the same for her. "But now, with everything you've been through, and being so mature for your age in spite of being a wee teen, I think you might be ready to hear it. What do you think?"

She simply nodded her head in answer.

"Well then, here it is. Think about those pancakes. Remember how they had the light golden spots from the bananas and the dark spots from the blueberries. Light and dark set against, and sometimes completely covering, the other. Looking at them, not many people would think they were any thing special; some would even call them disgusting–

"Like I did?"

"Yes dear, like you did, but they were delicious."

Hermione looked a bit perplexed but Mrs. Granger continued anyways.

"Sometimes in life you meet people like this. They've faced their share of good times, and dark times have been forced on them as well, but they don't let it ruin them. They come out better and stronger for it, and they are truly beautiful creatures. Do you understand?"

Hermione sat up, wiping a few tears from her eyes, and smiled a genuine smile. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good." She looked as if she was about to say something, but was interrupted by a knock from the bedroom door.

Standing there, with a hand behind his back and a comical smile upon his face, was Sebastian Granger. Of course he had heard them talking from down the hall and had been relieved to hear Hermione finally talking about her sister. Upon entering the doorway and sensing the atmosphere, he decided it was time to lighten the mood.

"Ah, my dear Mrs. Granger and my lovely Hermione, I've set eyes upon you at last and the day shall be well again." He bowed with a flourish. "Breakfast is served."

This was the man each sister had received their share of looks from. With sparkling blue eyes, bright golden blonde hair and a toothy joker's smile, Mr. Granger went from joking to serious like no body's business, but they loved him for it. Apparently, he had deemed it time for laughter.

Mrs. Granger walked right up to him and feigned outrage as she proclaimed "Oh, you" before smacking him on the arm. He pouted a bit until she placed a quick peck on his cheek. "Whatever am I to do with you but love you?"

He smile brightly and responded, "However am I to know?"

Then she was out the door and down the stairs with a quick pronouncement of "I'll set the table."

Mr. Granger glanced over at his daughter, who had been silent through the whole encounter, and caught her looking into space with a dreamy expression. A rich knowing smile spread across his face. Perhaps he would have to start batting boys away earlier then he thought. He approached her slowly. Standing in front of her, he smiled brightly before proclaiming, and loudly, "Hello star shine! The earth says hello!"

"Oh! Dad! Sorry, I zoned out for a bit. Did you say something?"

"I noticed." He tilted his head, in a perplexed fashion, to survey her better. "So, who's the boy?"

"Dad! There aren't any boys," she said, not hiding her exasperation.

"Men then? Perhaps it's time to switch my bat with a shotgun," he said while rubbing his chin. He struggled not to laugh at her comically wide eyes and gob smacked expression, but narrowed his eyes when he noticed her look away and try to hide a blush with her curls. There wasn't much a girl could hide from her father, especially one as perceptive as he was. His suspicions only mounted when she seemed unwilling to look anywhere that would force her to meet his eyes.

"Dad what's that you have there?" She pointed at a letter he held. He lifted his right hand and examined the letter that had a hastily scrawled 'Hermione' written across its front.

"Oh, this? It's a letter." He turned it so Hermione could see her name. He watched as her eyes grew wide. "It's for you actually. It just came by floo through the fireplace. Although, I'm beginning to think I shouldn't deliver it."

"Dad, it's from Harry! It could be important."

"Harry? Are you sure? But didn't you know?" He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Harry is a boy."

"Dad," she huffed as she crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot.

He chuckled a bit at his daughters temper, thinking _'She's just like her mother.'_

"Oh, alright," he relented while handing it over. She smiled brightly, grabbed the letter, and pecked him on the cheek before ripping the letter open. She looked up at him after reading the first line. "I'll be down soon, I promise."

He eyed her stance and furrowed brow curiously before casually walking down to meet his wife in the kitchen. He had just begun to tell her about that morning's news report. Apparently, there had been another mystery earthquake early this morning. The mystery, strangely was the location of each epicenter. Even more strange was that it was the third mystery earthquake this month.

"The news stations and the papers are venting their frustration by verbally eviscerating the geophysicists on the case. This morning they accused them of –

He was interrupted by a quick succession of loud noises. The first was a screech. The second was the thump of a book against the wall. The third was the pounding of feet down the stairs, which coincided with his daughter entering the kitchen with a panicked look upon her face. She caught his eye before turning her attention to her mother, who stood dishing out pancakes. She took a deep breath before opening her mouth to deliver quite a shock. "Please," she positively begged. "Please tell me we are not related to the Malfoys."

Her mother dropped the plate she was holding to the table with a clatter. She was left speechless and her shell-shocked expression reflected that fact. Apparently, that was all Hermione needed as her eyes began to glow with horrified realization. Then, her mother regained a spark of her senses, enough to speak, and delivered the final blow. "Who told you?" They didn't see it coming, but perhaps they should have. Right there, in the middle of the kitchen, their Hermione Granger fainted.


	3. Teaser chapter

Within the grand library of a majestic ancestral home a young twelve year old boy sat silently tapping a quill against his knee. He perched lazily in a regal antique high back chair while absently balancing on two of its golden claw-foot legs. This boy, tall and skinny with long platinum hair and the chiseled pale features and silvery gray eyes of his father, was Draco Malfoy, pureblood scion of the ancient and noble houses of Black and Malfoy, only child of Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and Lucius Malfoy. He, like his father, had an air of prideful superiority about him; nothing was good enough for a Malfoy and the best was always expected of a Malfoy.

Thus, the reason Draco found himself sitting before a cherry wood desk, upon which rested several haphazardly strewn rolls of parchments, quills, bottles of ink and a large tome, with a rather bored and vacant expression. His mind was far from the defense text he had been ordered to read, memorize, and annotate by his father and instead on quidditch. Personally, he would much rather be out flying. He wanted to beat out Potter this year and make the slytherin house team as seeker. That would need practice, even with his father's money; he couldn't be an absolute failure and embarrass the family.

He gazed longingly out the glass-paneled wall, with a spectacular view of the family orchards and, just beyond it, their own personal quidditch pitch, wishing for his broom and open air. He knew he couldn't go against a direct order from his father; what his father ordered was law, anyone caught disobeying, human or subhuman was punished severely. That went for his son and wife as well.

Draco knew that there was a perfectly good reason that he should study the defense text before him. His father had told him all about this year's defense against the dark arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, that he was just another name upon a long list of unqualified professors. His father did seem to think highly of the man in one area. "He's a master among fools." His father had said and that his collection of written work was nothing better than a glorious joke, "But still worthy of any slytherin." However, since his written works were being used as this year's course material, if he was to be expected to learn anything, he would need a suitable text to adequately supplement them.

His professor's incompetence wouldn't serve as an excuse for Lucius Malfoy, who expected the best out of his son. He, especially didn't expect his son's grades to beaten in every class by a no nothing muggleborn.

'Stupid mudblood, she thinks she's so good, so high and mighty for beating every pureblood in the school. She'll learn you don't cross a Malfoy.' The boy thought to himself venomously, before sighing and getting back to work.

There was a dull thump, from the chair's legs meeting ground, followed by the sharp scratching of a quill on parchment. 'This is so boring.' He sighed in frustration then began to scratch out another sentence but was distracted by a rapid tap tapping of heels as they echoed from down the corridor, steadily gaining volume, and into the open library doors. He turned a curious eye toward the library entrance. If he had to take a guess, it was his mother, and she seemed to be upset about something. She never rushed. He put down his quill, to wait for her, just as her tall blonde form, elegantly robed as usual, rushed past the open entry, presumably to confront his father.

His father's private study was just down the hall from the library. He didn't usually allow visitors, but with how angry his mother seemed, she hadn't even spared a glance for her son, that unspoken rule was about to be trod under foot. Draco let out a tired sigh, knowing there was a blowup stirring, while relaxing against his chairs back and flexing his writing hand.

He was surprised when, instead of a knock, he heard a crash, followed by a crack, as a pair of towering twin doors, belonging to the imposing entryway of his father's study, was slammed against their adjoining walls. Presumably they had been forced apart by magic, especially since each door was made of stone and heavier than a mountain troll. His mother was a queen of dramatic entrances, and judging by this one he could assume she was well beyond angry, she was furious. His father's anger at her audacity would soon follow, but for now, he would probably be left in stunned disbelief at his mother's forwardness. Draco could just imagine her regal countenance, as she stood facing her husband with silver sparks trailing from her wand and bright platinum hair as it crackled from unrestrained magic.

His mother was a sophisticated and complex woman, one he admired greatly. Cool and collected in public, outside of family, no one would suspect her to be this fiery and passionate in private. Draco was one of the few who knew that one factor alone could be relied upon to rile his mother. Any threat to her family would have her on the warpath. He sighed, wondering what his father had done this time, and hoping this argument didn't escalate, but it would if the Malfoy pride got in the way, which it undoubtedly would. If that happened, he knew there was nothing he would be able to do, but for now he would wait and see. The wait wasn't long, as in the next moment, his mother's chilly voice cut through the still silence.

"Lucius! What. Did. You. Do!" Her voice was clipped and cold enough to freeze.

"I have done a great many things, my _dear_. If you want an answer, you will have to be more specific." His response bled enough venom to kill. Lucius was not a man to be crossed, his wife knew this, and he despised questions, most especially from his wife and son. This would not end well, but his mother was persistent.

"Oh, don't patronize me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now where is it?"

There was a moment of tense silence. Draco could just imagine his father's clenched jaw and dangerous calculating expression.

"You are walking a fine edge Narcissa. Do. not. Test. Me."

Draco shivered. The few times his father had talked to him in that tone played focus in many of his nightmares.

"I know it's not here. It's clear you have gotten rid of the _thing_. If you are connected to it in any way, this family will be walking a fine edge."

"Oh, I see. You doubt me Narcissa. There is no reason for that. Come September first, the book shall be safely ensconced within the wards of Hogwarts." His voice, becoming steadily more dangerous, easily carried over her gasp. "Dumbledore shall take the fall and our family shall reap the benefits. I expect that by the end of this year we shall be welcoming back" –

"No! How could you do this? What about our son? You would subject him to this?"

"Purebloods shall not be harmed and Draco has been warned to keep his head down and stay out of trouble, but this is what is best for our family."

"How could you possibly think that? And what then shall happen if he returns? Will a lifetime of bloodshed and groveling be what's best for our family as well?"

"Narcissa! What has happened to your loyalties? It seems, to me, that you need to be reeducated."

At this statement Draco stood abruptly. His chair clattered to the floor, but he didn't notice. It was clear where this conversation was headed, and he knew he could provide next to no help for his mother, but he couldn't just sit there listening and not do anything, not anymore. He was out of the library and half way down the corridor, close enough to see his father begin to stand behind his desk as his mother took a step back. His father looked up and met his eyes, before returning his anger to his mother. "You are making our son weak!" His voice was a dead whisper, but Draco still caught it. In the next moment Lucius pulled his wand. For a moment Draco thought he was going to curse him. Instead, the heavy stone-work doors were slammed shut, before glowing red then blue with wards. He made the mistake of pounding his fist against the stone, in frustration, and was rewarded with being thrown back five feet by magic.

"Ah! Bloody hell" His voice echoed down the corridor as he flew through the air. He was expecting a painful landing, but what should have been a crash landing upon a cold stone floor, was a cushioned impact against a small soft body. Draco groaned, before looking down in puzzled frustration, and was greeted by the sight of a small wrinkled house elf with blue eyes the size of saucers.

"Is the young master hurt, sir?" The elf spoke in a high squeaky voice, from beneath him, that made Draco want to clap his hands to his ears. He stood, on shaky legs, brushed off his robes and tidied his greased back hair, before finally turning an imperious gaze onto a now nervous elf. Draco realized, with a little surprise, that it wasn't just any house elf, but his father's personal house elf, Dumpy or Dodgy or something. He thought back to the crack he had heard, upon his mother's grand entrance, and his eyes glowed with realization and surprise. 'What a sneaky house elf. If this is anything to go by, it can be quite useful.' He looked the elf up and down critically while pondering his current predicament.

Draco knew second hand what life had been like during the first war. His mother had told him often how bad it had been, what it had meant for both light and dark families. If he understood correctly, what his mother had been alluding to, then he would be alive to see a second war. 'Well, I can't let that happen. Whatever he is planning, he can't succeed.'

"There is only so much you can hide behind a mask before it begins to crack." His mother had told him that, and she would know. If the Dark Lord returned, he, like his mother, wouldn't have a choice in the matter. He would have to side with his father, or pay the consequences. With a rampaging dark lord on the loose, those consequences would be deadly. Well, he wasn't a slytherin for nothing. He took a deep breath before speaking. He would have to trust his instincts for now and plan later.

"So, spy on my father often?"

The elf stopped wringing its hands to look up with fearful eyes. "The smart young master is catching a bad elf, he is. I is being spying on the master two and three times a days. I is going to be ironing my hands and bludgeoning my eyes now, sir." He looked aghast at the house elf, for a moment; he could never quite get used to there habit of brutally punishing themselves, but it was encouraged by his father, so he knew there was nothing to be done. "Don't bother. I'll be needing something from you before you go."

"What is the young master needing?" The curious elf asked.

He lowered his voice before speaking. "What I am about to say to you is to be kept secret, even from my parents. You are to tell no one. If you do exactly as I tell you, then my father will never have to hear about your little spying escapades. Do you understand?"

The elf nodded his head frantically and jumped in excitement. "I is understanding. What is the young master be needing?"

Draco tried not to let his disgust show. 'For you to learn to speak proper English? How can I associate with something that can't even talk like a human?' He shook that thought away; that would need to come later, but for now…

"Why, for you to spy on father of course. Now, listen carefully…"


End file.
